


Where'd You Go?

by marsakat



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alien Abduction, Aliens, Angst, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8548318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsakat/pseuds/marsakat
Summary: It's been almost a year since Josh disappeared, and Tyler is far from okay.  His life has fall apart as he obsesses endlessly over what happened to his friend, but the drummer's return brings more questions than are answered.





	1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoManyRegrets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyRegrets/gifts), [TheDyingSun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDyingSun/gifts), [PastelMess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelMess/gifts), [flightlessnerds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightlessnerds/gifts).



> An amalgam of some strange dreams I had, and a work of passion that's taken up my life for the past few weeks. I've written the story completely and now I'm posting it in full. Stay tuned.

When Josh disappeared, it made national news. Theories flew, questioning where he went, why, and who must have taken him. People wondered if the fame had gotten to him, whether he’d snapped and ran off to live alone in the mountains. Tyler guessed that Josh would’ve preferred the desert; he liked being warm. 

But thinking too hard about that sent Tyler into a panic. He hoped that wherever his best friend was, he wasn't cold.

The police were less interested in Tyler's own theories than with what he had been doing on the night in question. Since Tyler was the last one to see Josh alive before he vanished, they wanted every detail. What did they talk about? Did he seem angry or depressed? Had they fought? Did he say goodbye?

By their endless questioning, it seemed like the cops thought either Tyler murdered Josh or Josh killed himself. Tyler didn’t want to consider the possibility that Josh was dead, never coming back. Tyler could barely consider that scenario. Josh was gone; he didn't know how or why, but Josh was not dead. Tyler never usually had control over the part of his brain that whispered dark thoughts- but this time he was firm in shouting at it to  _ Shut Up _ !

The police let him go since there was no evidence of a crime. Josh was just missing; walked off the tour bus saying he was going to get coffee—something he did in every new city—and he never came back. No note; ransom, goodbye, nor suicide; he had just vanished.

Tyler raked his mind trying to ascertain some shred of evidence of what had happened to Josh. It was disheartening to hear the detectives mumbling they were still chasing leads, even as weeks turned into months with no results. He deliberated endlessly to discover something he or they or anyone else had missed. That whole preceding week had been normal. That day hadn’t been anything  special either, up until over an hour into soundcheck, when no one could find the drummer. His phone went straight to voicemail and several thorough searches of the venue, buses, and surrounding neighborhood turned up nothing. They called the police, put out messages to the local hospitals, and thus began the hunt. No sightings. No clues. No answers. No Josh.

It wasn’t like him. He'd never do this to anyone, and everyone that ever knew him was in agreement of that fact. Something happened to Josh, and everything was falling apart because of it. Tyler couldn't go on with tour without him, could barely function day-to-day from worrying if he was safe, if he was hurt, if he was scared. He knew Josh's family was wondering the same things; endless circles of panic and hope dripping away. Tyler sunk into a dark, dark place of barely moving, barely eating or talking, as if he was fasting in protest and solidarity of Josh's abduction. His own family forced him immediately into counseling, but that didn't stop his swift decline.

The one year anniversary was approaching, and Tyler considered leaving his house for the first time in weeks. Maybe if he returned to the scene of the crime, a path would light up to show the way to find his best friend. A yellow brick road all the way to Josh. Tyler hovered in a trance of fantasies and half-baked schemes of rescuing the missing drummer, slowly losing the ability to distinguish between reality and dreams.

* * *

The one year anniversary was just days away when in a cornfield, hundreds of miles from home and also far from where Josh disappeared, a farmer was awakened in the middle of the night by a bright light invading his bedroom. He squinted out of the window and could see nothing through the glare. With a loud whirring noise, the light drifted away and darkness once again descended. The farmer thankfully didn't equate it to a strange waking dream, and decided to investigate.

With a flashlight and his two trusty dogs, they set into the rows of tall, silently swaying stalks. The dogs ahead with the farmer walking briskly after their eager barks, he finally broke into a sprint when he heard their frantic calls and howls. In a flattened circle of corn, he came upon what he had least expected. The dogs circled and nudged an unconscious form on the ground. A man—lower half covered in blood and dressed in what would have been a pure white shift. The body was cold and shivering when the farmer touched him, lifting its head to let out an unearthly scream.

The farmer leapt back as if burnt, startled by the sudden noise and the person—the man—on the ground’s yell turning into gasps of "They took them. They took them," before passing back out.

The next time he touched the stranger, their skin burnt as if in the heat of a fever, but they said no more as he dragged them towards the house. The dogs lead silently, as if they knew more than the farmer. He cursed the lack of cell phone service out here, as the walk seemed interminable. He couldn't gauge how sick this man was, and prayed they would be able to call an ambulance in time.

* * *

Tyler didn't know the day was any different from the last; his mother dropping in with the excuse of passing by on her way to running errands. This happened every day, but Tyler didn't bother arguing. At least she brought him food, though Tyler could do better than to sit through the lecture on dysfunctional grieving.

"Josh wouldn't want you to be like this. Josh wouldn't want you to fall apart. He would've wanted you to write music, to take care of yourself!" She'd insist.

Tyler didn't need her to tell him what Josh wanted; no one knew Josh better than him. And just because Josh's hopes and wishes for him were reasonable and rational didn't mean Tyler was going to listen. But he wouldn't ever tell her that, just nod and put the groceries away.

His phone rang and Tyler wanted to ignore it, but the Caller ID saying "Josh's Mom" was too tempting to miss.

He couldn't understand through the sobs what she was saying, so Tyler assumed the worst—Josh must be dead. They found his body.

But no, the phone was apparently pulled away from here and Jordan's voice came through the line, shaking and full of tears, but clear; "They found him. Tyler, they found him. Josh is alive!"

Tyler dropped the phone and fell to his knees, his mother kneeling next to him. He was so numb, everything he'd bottled up over the year came spilling out. Tyler laughed. He laughed so hard his ribs ached and threatened to split. Gales of laughter shook his body until he was screaming a mixture of delight, fear, and rage. Josh was alive. Josh was back. Tyler was going to see him immediately and no force on Earth was going to stop him.

Everyone, and Tyler meant everyone, wanted to go, but only he and Josh's family were the ones allowed to fly all the way to the flat lands and cornfields to see Josh in the hospital. No one wanted to overwhelm Josh, after all.

It'd been so long; elation causing a nonstop flow of tears for the 'welcome committee’s' the whole trip there. It was surreal; a celebration in a way, but the happiness was only part way as everyone worried what state Josh was in.

They were prepared by the doctors ahead of time.  He was still weak, a little fragile, so his guests were limited to two at a time until the nurse deemed Josh was too exhausted to continue.  His parents went first, of course and the rest waited in the family room for their turn.

"We're going to grab a coffee," Josh's dad poked his head into the room after about ten minutes—obviously his mother wasn't holding her composure so they needed some time alone. "He's excited to see you all."

"How is he, dad?" Ashley asked.

"He's...fine," Josh's dad thought about it for a while, "He's been through a lot, but Josh is tough. He's going to be okay."

The sisters went next and Tyler and Jordan waited silently. Tyler leapt up to begin pacing; the year was nearly up. He wondered what Josh would look like. Would he bear the scars of a year of abuse and neglect?  What if there was some major injury that had been kept from them?  Tyler envisioned Josh missing limbs, blind, or deaf.  They’d make it work.  No matter what hurdle was thrown at them, they’d figure it out.  Josh  **will** drum again onstage, Tyler swore to himself.  This wasn’t the end for either of them.

Another ten minutes passed and the two girls returned.

“Go quickly, the nurse looks ready to bar the door shut so he could rest,” Ashley gestured to the hospital ward. Both were pale, even more worn-looking than when they arrived.

The hallway seemed to stretch like a funhouse room and Tyler’s footsteps barely made progress across the squeaky tile.  Tyler could glimpse through curtains of other patients’ rooms to see very, very sick people with machines breathing for them and pumps delivering numerous medications.  If Josh was surrounded by these people, does that mean he’s dying too, Tyler asked himself. 

It took eons to make it to the curtain that blocked all prying eyes from looking into Josh’s private room, and Tyler almost wanted to run away.  What was waiting for him on the other side of the curtain?  He couldn’t be held back, though and he pulled back the curtain.

The first things that Tyler registered was that Josh was extremely pale—as if he hadn’t seen the sun in the past year, and maybe he hadn’t—and also that his hair was back to its natural dark curly state.  The hair had grown out completely; no evidence he ever dyed it to near-death; but overall it only served to highlight how little color blushed his cheeks.

Besides that Josh looked…the same, and that’s what shocked Tyler the most.  He didn’t seem to have been malnourished at least, though it was hard to tell if Josh gained or lost weight with the drummer propped up in bed surrounded by a mountain of blankets.

“Hey,” Josh’s voice was hoarse.  He squinted between the two of them, “Good to finally see you all.”

Jordan swooped in for a hug while Tyler lingered behind.

“C’mere,” Josh’s arms left the nest to reach toward him and Tyler could see the first of a few strange markings that he’d spend the rest of his life wondering about. Circular, evenly sized and spaced from his wrists to his biceps—they almost looked like burns, but the skin wasn’t pink, just raised and smooth.  Tyler wondered if the marks were hurting him, and if they were located anywhere else, but those questions would be answered later.  He sunk into Josh’s embrace, breathing in against his neck.

Josh was real.  Josh was here.  The nightmare was over.

“I missed you so much,” Tyler confessed as Josh settled back into the warmth of his blankets.  Josh’s skin felt so cold to him, Tyler’s spine tingled with the old fear of Josh being uncomfortable.

“I know,” Josh’s smile left, “I did too.  Every day I wished I could come back to see you.  To explain.”

“Explain what?” Jordan asked.

Josh shook his head, “I can’t say—not yet.  You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Tyler insisted and pat the lump that was possibly his shoulder—or maybe his chest.

Josh bit his lip; a gesture that was so typical of him that Tyler almost wanted to cry from the familiarity.

“What about you?  What have you guys done?”  Josh was clearly uncomfortable so the two allowed the abrupt conversation change.

Jordan filled Josh in on his life; new job, new apartment, new pet.  Josh’s smile slowly returned again.

“And Tyler?  Am I still in the band or have you replaced me?” Josh joked.

“Never,” Tyler put on a show of grabbing his heart and gasping.  It felt like he too was being…unmelted.  That the freeze on his life and personality was thawing now that Josh’s sunshine radiated into him.

But Tyler wanted to know what had happened to him.  He had so many questions that Josh’s reappearance was supposed to answer, but it just seemed like they all were dancing around them instead of asking him flat out where he went.  But he could read in Josh’s eyes he didn’t want to talk about it yet, so Tyler wasn’t going to force it at all.

The nurse poked her head into the room to remind them the ten minutes were nearly up—that Josh needed to rest.

“Hey Jordan, there’s something I need to ask Tyler alone.  Um, I’ll see you tomorrow?”  Josh said plaintively and Jordan shrugged, hugged his brother, and left.

“What’s up, dude?” Tyler asked innocently, heart pounding.

“You have to help me find them,” Josh turned wild, scared eyes upon him. 


	2. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i want to believe  
> i want to go home

“Find who? The people that took you?”

“No!  Not them.  Well, yes—them.  They have them.  No, I can’t—I can’t tell you.  You won’t believe me.  No one is going to believe me,” the switch was so sudden, Tyler felt like Josh had snapped in front of him.  Gone was the façade of mild exhaustion and serenity.  Josh’s hands rose from beneath the covers to twist and pull on a bracelet—not the hospital bracelet—a thin band of plastic with three multicolored beads.

“You know I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.  No matter how, uh, unusual it is,” Tyler tried to sooth him but Josh shook his head wildly.  “I’ll help you.  Whatever you need.  We’ll find…them.”

“They took them,” Josh’s voice shook and he released the bracelet in favor of reaching up to tug on his hair.  “They took them and I don’t know where they are.  If they are okay? Do they need me?  Do they miss me?”

Tyler couldn’t take the time to think about what Josh was saying; realizing how quick he was spiraling downward.  He’d never heard Josh plead so desperately, as the drummer began to shiver and rock.  Tyler couldn’t think what to do, horror at what was happening to his best friend, freezing him in place.

“Help me! Help me!  Please!” Josh’s voice raised in volume until  _ people _ came—pulling Tyler away, only making Josh shout louder.  “Promise me, Tyler!”

“I promise!” Tyler yelled back when he was shoved from the room, and Josh fell silent with a crowd of  _ people _ around him.

Tyler ran.  He ran all the way until he was outside.  He would do anything to help Josh, but what if he was beyond help? What if Josh was more broken than could be repaired?  Tyler knelt and sobbed, uncaring of who was watching. 

The whole experience was so unsettling, and it was from the moment Josh placed eyes upon him.   Hollow eyes had shone through the mask of that now-obviously fake smile.  Josh had been through more than he was saying and they’d only scratched the surface of the secrets he was withholding.  Tyler had a sense that Josh would reveal them when the time was right; he just had to wait to find out what Josh needed him to do.

* * *

Josh stayed in the hospital for almost a week, quickly allowed to have more than two visitors with him, for ‘special circumstances’.  Tyler only left to sleep and shower, as did the rest of Josh’s family. The police visited several times to interview him about his abduction, but they seemed to be getting nowhere with the delicate drummer.  He seemed terrified to answer.

“Is your…unwillingness to help us because of fear of your captors?  Their retribution?” asked the detectives’ psychologist.

Josh shook his head, “I’m scared of what you will think of me.  Of what everyone will think.  No one will believe me.”

“We need to know more.  We want to help you.  If we can find them, we can stop them from hurting others.”

“You can’t stop them,” Josh stared out the window and refused to talk further until all investigators left.

While Josh did not appear sick when one first saw him, besides his deathly pallor from lack of sun, it became clear that he needed time to recover once he attempted to walk.  Tyler was there when they first sat him on the side of the bed, shivering uncontrollably.  They almost made him lie back down, but Josh insisted he try to stand. Once he took to his feet, his eyes rolled back and he crumbled. If it wasn’t for the two physical therapists holding him up, Josh would have hit the floor immediately.

A whirl of activity happened and Tyler clung to the wall to let the staff do what Josh needed.  His blood pressure dangerously low, they practically tossed him into bed and ran extra intravenous fluids.  Slowly, Josh woke back up after a few minutes of panic on Tyler’s part.  Eyes rolling, unseeing until he slipped back to awareness.

“Wha-what happened?” Josh slurred and tried to sit up, but hands pressed him to the mattress.

“Don’t move yet—looks like you passed out. How are you feeling?”

“The subject feels dizzy,” Josh mumbled, “The subject wants the lights off, please.”

Tyler shivered; Josh was obviously having a flashback or something.  What did those people  _ do _ to him?

They dimmed the lights and Josh lay stiffly, trance-like, on the bed, his blood pressure slowly increasing to a safe number.  Tyler chewed on a loose hangnail, eyes darting between the screen displaying numbers he didn’t quite understand, and his friend.  Josh’s eyes were fixated on the ceiling, and Tyler teetered on the edge of doing something, while fighting with the fear that maybe inaction would be best.   _ They _ had done something to him, that much was obvious, Tyler concluded.   How could he possibly help Josh now?

The metallic taste of blood exploded in his mouth—he had bitten through the skin and the sting brought him to the present.  A doctor was examining Josh while Tyler lurked in the shadows.

“Mr. Dun, can you tell me how you’re feeling?” the doctor shone a light into Josh’s eyes, which widened and he sat up quickly.

“They took the children—one, two, three; don’t hurt them, hurt me instead!” Josh yelled, “Tyler! One, two three. Where are you? I—can’t—see!”

Tyler shoved bodies out of the way to get to Josh, soothe him of whatever was haunting him.

“I’m here. I’m here,” he whispered, holding Josh to his chest until his friend relaxed and the emergency passed.  Josh was never this vulnerable to Tyler, even in the worst of his anxiety attacks, Josh still had strength in his eyes.  But he looked up at Tyler with only fear, having seen too much, lost something huge that Tyler couldn’t account for or understand.  And that fragility caused something warm and rigid to fall into Tyler’s heart; a need to protect that was neither tender nor soft.  It was a vow.

They let Josh rest, before trying again the next day, and there were many attempts before Josh was able to tolerate standing without fainting.  His first steps were weak and required a lot of support.  His muscles and bones ached for no obvious reason, coordination faltering.  Josh would drop things all the time, misstepping and misjudging distance.  He complained a lot about his eyesight being blurry, bouts of vertigo making it worse. 

“Were you having these symptoms where you were being…kept?” the doctors asked, and Josh would clench his jaw and simply shake his head no.

The detectives came again when Josh was about to be discharged.  He’d made it several laps around the hospital floor with Tyler and his father hovering nervously behind him, and was cleared to go home.  The cops tried to make everyone leave, but Josh refused to let them force Tyler from the room.  Tyler was his anchor.

“He’s helping me.  Anything I say he should hear too,” Josh said forcefully, a hand pressed to his abdomen, the other a fist clenched in fear.

They bombarded him with questions, and Tyler was shaking with anger.  It seemed like they just wanted to scare something out of Josh.  Josh, who was innocent and hurt in all this.

“The markings on your body; can you tell us a more about them?”

“Can anyone account for your actions once you left the tour bus?  Were you really going to get coffee or were you meeting someone?”

“Were you grabbed directly off the street?  Did they assault you or threaten you in order to make you go with them? What sort of vehicle did they take you in?”

“Your story isn’t lining up!  Are you trying to protect someone?  This could be considered obstruction of justice.”

“You want the truth?  Fine!” Tyler could never recall a time before where Josh raised his voice so often, “I was following directions on my phone and ended up in this abandoned lot.  All of a sudden a bright light surrounded me and I thought I died.  I woke up on a cold metal table and these—creatures were standing around me.  They…did things to me and that’s it.  That’s the truth.  I was abducted by aliens and I can see in all your faces that no one believes me.”

Josh shuddered, his voice wavering and then evening out into dull resignation, “That’s why I didn’t tell you.  I’ve seen enough  _ X-Files _ to know that no one is going to believe me.  You’re not going to catch them because they’re unbelievably more powerful than you.”

The detectives looked at each other with shock and resignation—it was obvious they thought Josh was mentally unhinged.  That the trauma of what happened to him twisted his perception to think aliens experimented on him for a year.  They realized that they weren’t going to get anything further from him, and departed, leaving behind their card for whenever he ‘came to his senses’.

Josh was breathing heavily and Tyler didn’t know what to do.  He needed Josh to see  _ reason  _ but there was no logic to be had in such a dire mental state.  Tyler was obliged to just support him and the truth would come with time.

“I need to get out of here,” Josh turned eyes full of pain to Tyler, who simply nodded and stood to get the nurse and the paperwork to go.

“What happened with the detectives?” Josh’s parents asked Tyler in an undertone, once Josh was distracted by his siblings.  “They came by and said Josh needed serious help before they’d be able to get anything useful from him.”

“Uh,” Tyler glanced to make sure Josh was far enough away, “He told them that aliens abducted him.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“He doesn’t…he couldn’t actually believe that?”

Tyler didn’t know what to think.  Aliens didn’t actually exist—Josh knew that, right?  Tyler had been sure most of it, the ‘I Want to Believe’, was just a joke, a childhood fantasy.  Was he just being sarcastic with the detectives?  But he’d been saying all along that  _ no one would believe him _ , so wouldn’t that mean…maybe he  _ actually _ thought aliens took him?

Tyler gave Josh the window seat for the flight back and Josh looked out onto the clouds and up-up into the blue as if he was searching for something.

“Hold my hand?” he whispered once turbulence hit and Tyler did as he was asked. Josh’s hand was so cool and clammy, it served as a constant reminder of how sick Josh still was.

The familiar scene of sitting next to each other on a flight, but in such different circumstances, brought another sense of how much time they had spent apart.  All this rush of finding him, helping him to begin healing—he’d forgotten the relief that Josh was back with him.

No one wanted to bring him to his own house—too lonely and empty for someone who needed help and supervision.  Tyler offered to stay with him there, but Josh’s mom insisted he go to his childhood home.  Josh looked too exhausted to express a preference and they half-carried him into the house after the many hours of travel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting this quite regularly, don't worry my friends, this is only the beginning


	3. Recuperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a rough first night, but Tyler swears that they're gonna be okay. They're gonna be okay

That first night, Tyler stayed on the floor of Josh’s bedroom waiting to leap up if any night terrors disturbed him, but none came since Josh simply could not sleep.  They both tossed and turned all night, close to tears of frustration.  Tyler tried everything; playing soft music, singing to him, even climbing into bed to pat his back, but Josh shuddered and shook his head.

“I—I can’t—touching is hard right now, like this,” Josh sighed.  Tyler could imagine but didn’t want to know why.  They lay side by side but with a foot or so between them.  Josh fidgeted for a while, trying to punch the pillows into a better position.  The moon shined bright through the window; Tyler had asked if Josh needed a nightlight, but that suggestion was refused.  Josh begged to see the moon for the first time in a year.

“I’m sorry for causing all this trouble,” Josh huffed and fell back into the pillow, giving it up for a lost cause, staring up at the ceiling.

“Maybe—maybe you just got used to, um, how you were sleeping in the place you were, uh—” Tyler didn’t know what were the safe words to use when speaking about Josh’s abduction, “Maybe try to do it like that?  Oh, that might not be—”

“That’s…not a bad idea,” Josh seemed to consider it for a moment, Tyler watching the glow illuminate his face, “I was mostly on a—a table, I think? They gave me stuff that made it hard to tell how much time passed, and like, I never knew if I was sleeping because I was tired or because of the drugs.”

Tyler’s breath caught suddenly, then his mouth ran away from his mind, his vow of ‘Don’t upset Josh by making him remember’ forgotten.

“What did they do to you?” Tyler could see the marks on his left arm, and even the hint of one on his exposed collarbone.

“I don’t even know what they were looking for most of the time.  Maybe they just wanted to see how humans worked, what we’re made of.  Why they picked me, I don’t know,” the words flowed easily from Josh, as if fatigue let the truth out this time, “The exploration… experimentation was what they tried at first, but then they started doing things as if they’re figuring out how to change us.  I don’t know how to explain it, but it went from, like, learning to doing… testing.  And that’s when—when they—” Josh’s voice faltered.

“The…aliens?” Tyler asked tentatively and Josh shrugged.

“Whatever you wanna call them, I never learned their language and what they’re named.  They could understand me though.  I wonder if they did something to my brain, but how come I can remember? Wouldn’t they want me to forget?  I wish I didn’t remember.”

Tyler didn’t know what to do next, what he could possibly say to make Josh feel better.  There was no way aliens experimented on him; he must’ve been drugged with hallucinogens so whoever did take him so Josh wouldn’t be able to give the police information about them.

Josh fumbled with the bracelet, and rolled the beads between his fingers. Tyler reached out, asking silently to touch, and Josh handed it to him.  Tyler suddenly was hit by the fact that Josh still trusted him wholeheartedly—telling him more than he told anyone else about what happened, or at least what he believe happened to him in that year.  He was handing this apparent object of comfort without hesitation to Tyler, and in that moment he realized that he had to be as respectful as possible.  Maybe somewhere in this delirium there would be truth.

The beads were malleable to the touch;, squishy and spongey, but when pressed too hard, it would get rigid and then spring back to its original shape. They were clear when held to the light, a single drop of color in the gel-like interior.

“What’s it mean? You didn’t have it before,” Tyler asked.

“Um, they gave it to me.  I think in their culture its traditional whenever you have, um…to symbolize…” Josh clammed up, “I’m gonna try to sleep on the floor.  I think that’ll maybe resemble the examination table more.  Maybe I’m just too comfortable in this bed.”

“That’s a good idea,” Tyler said dreamily, weariness watching over him.  They made progress this night, obviously Josh wasn’t ready to talk about whatever he was hiding.  Was it that he didn’t want to think about it, or that he was afraid Tyler wouldn’t be able to handle it?

They only slept for a few hours that night before the sun came out and lit up the whole room.  Tyler hovered in a half-awake state, trying to recall whatever strange dream had plagued him throughout the night.  The stress was getting to him—he’d been sleeping weird for a few days now—dreams of endless labyrinthine passageways  that found him exactly where he started.  

He was hit by remembrance, and an eagerness to make sure Josh was still there.  The bed next to him was empty, Tyler confused for a moment before recalling the conversation last night. Rolling to his other side, Tyler watched Josh standing at the window, letting the rays soak into his pallid skin.

“You wanna go outside today?” Tyler yawned, thinking maybe a quiet walk would do Josh some good.  Fresh air in his lungs, wind in his hair.

Josh nodded, cocking his head to listen to his mother cooking breakfast downstairs.

“Hungry?” Tyler asked, and again Josh nodded.  He was silent for the whole meal, and everyone seemed to realize Josh needed them to talk around him, needed to absorb the normalcy as if nothing had changed or happened to him.  Let them all talk about school and work, gossip about neighbors—from the tone of the conversation, Tyler could tell some of this was old news, though they pretended it wasn’t recycled.  Josh had missed a lot, and it was a good distraction to hear about other people’s lives.

They put on sunglasses and hoodies, and it almost felt like old times driving around.  Josh controlling the radio, and drumming on his thighs.  Tyler kept getting distracted by the fact that Josh was  _ here _ again, and he had to be reminded to drive once the light turned green.

“Been writing lately?” Josh inquired once they sat down on a park bench.  He couldn’t walk too far without wincing from aching joints.  He rubbed his knees briefly before leaning back and resting his hands on his stomach, “I mean…that’s a dumb question.  Of course you’ve been writing.  So, when do I get to hear it?”

Tyler’s heart skipped a beat as Josh let the first true smile spread across his face.  Of course  _ music _ would be the thing to make him happy, the outlet he needed.  Tyler nearly kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner.  Tyler wanted to pull Josh back to the car and find the nearest drumset so his friend could beat his anger and sadness out in the best way he knew how while Tyler screamed with him.  The only thing stopping him from leaving that moment was the tranquility as Josh’s eyes swept the sky, examining between the clouds.

“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff for you to do your magic on,” Tyler smiled at this happy scene, even though he knew the amount of music he’d created in Josh’s absence was far less than expected, “I hope you like it.”

“Sick,” Josh closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, “This just smells…like home.  It’s great being on Earth again.”

“Mhm,” Tyler made a noise of mild agreement, the doubt louder in his mind when cast into the light of day.  He didn’t want to ruin this day, so they sat side-by-side until the cool air overwhelmed them both.

* * *

Getting Josh behind the drums for the first time was a moment that Tyler would be replaying happily in his head for the rest of his life. Fingers tracing over the cymbals, twirling the drumsticks slowly; Josh looked reverent.  They went to his house, where everything but the drums had a soft layer of dust—Tyler made sure to keep them clean for whenever Josh returned.  He seemed almost nervous to play something, as if his muscles must have forgotten what to do, not like he’d fantasized every day for the whole year about being free to do  _ this _ again.

But it was barely noticeable once he began, and Tyler grinned so hard that his face hurt.  Josh’s eyes were closed, intuiting rather than seeing as he tried fill after fill.  Tyler recognized their own beats mixed in with other new ideas—Josh must have imagined these and practiced them in his head, an escape from the horror.  Sweat broke out on his forehead after just a few minutes and the sticks flew from his hands more and more frequently.  Tyler would run to grab and return the drumstick, willing Josh to  _ keep going _ .  But there was no way this was last—his stamina was low, he even lost his breath walking upstairs.

Josh slowed and stopped, his arms hanging heavily at his side, and drumsticks dropping on the floor with a clatter of finality. His eyes stayed closed as if meditating, and Tyler waited with baited breath.

“There’s no way I could do a show like this…not yet,” Josh said after his panting evened out, “ _ Lane Boy _ would put me in the hospital.”  He smiled grimly.

“You did…good.  Really good, bro,” Tyler found his voice surprisingly choked. 

“It was my audition.  Did I make it?” Josh laughed, “Am I back in the band?”

“One last test,” Tyler faked seriousness and walked towards him, “Do you still remember the handshake?”

“Oh jeez, I dunno,” Josh lifted his hands and yeah—that wasn’t something he’d just forget.  They were gonna be okay.  They were gonna be okay.

* * *

“I don’t wanna go back to my parent’s house,” Josh said hours later.  Tyler understood; being an adult and independent, then finding everything turned upside down and having your parents hover--it would drive anyone up a wall.

He wanted Josh to be happy, and while maybe he was awful at taking care of himself--the last year being proof of that--he was going to do everything in his power to make sure Josh was safe.  He felt purpose again.

Tyler produced a laptop and played him the songs he’d been working on in that year.  There weren’t many, when Tyler fell into that dark, dark place, he could barely put the metaphorical pen to paper and write about it.  As if Josh’s loss, the regrets about what he’d never said, and endless wonderings of what happened, couldn’t even be cured by what had always helped him.

And what he did write—it was dark and full of despair.  All the words he wanted to say and couldn’t.  It was like the early days all over again, and who was Josh that he filled such a void in his life that his music grew so…hopeful?  Josh stepped in and was the brightness, so much so that when he left, Tyler’s life was worse off than before they even met.  Who even was Josh to him?

_ Everything _ .

“It’s sick.  It’s awesome,” Josh pat him on the back, clearly aware of where Tyler had pulled this inspiration from. There were many things they needed to discuss.

And it just felt...weird to Tyler to be showing him.  Not that it was too personal, because Tyler was used to showing him the words that came from the darkest parts of his mind.  This time though it was all about  _ him _ and that was new.  Josh was the cause and Tyler didn’t want him to think for a moment he blamed Josh.  Though in Josh’s voice and his gentle touches—hesitant and shy—Tyler knew the drummer understood.  He knew what happened in his absence, and Tyler didn’t need to explain, because they were going to get through it together.  And that’s why they were going to be okay.


	4. Reminiscing

They lounged on the couches and watched television for the rest of the day.  It was like it used to be on days off between tours; making sassy comments, and cracking jokes.  Josh ruffled his hair and Tyler had the sudden crazy urge to run his hands through it.  He hadn’t seen Josh with his completely natural color in years, and he could pretend for a moment, ignoring the tattoos that hadn’t been there before, that they were back in 2010 or 2011.  It was so much easier then—no fame and everything to prove.

Tyler didn’t even realize he had drifted off until the shrill ring of his phone disturbed him from the doze.

“H’llo?” he mumbled, glancing over to reassure himself that Josh was still there—that this pleasant afternoon wasn’t some hopeless daydream.

“Where is he?!” Josh’s mother sounded panicked, “Do you know how late it is? He’s still sick.  You shouldn’t be over-tiring him!”

“I know, I know,” Tyler kept his voice low, not wanting to wake Josh up, the latter finally sleeping on a surface softer than hardwood.  He was lying on his side facing Tyler—one hand resting on his stomach while the other pillowed under his cheek, undoubtedly falling numb.  Tyler considered moving it so Josh wouldn’t have to suffer through the discomfort of pins and needles.

She had kept talking throughout Tyler’s reverie, and he interrupted, “We’re at Josh’s place.  He’s sleeping and I didn’t want to move him.  I’ll stay with him here again tonight, and if you wanna come in the morning…”

He could sense her hesitancy, and he too wasn’t sure about this.  The first night wasn’t so bad, but  _ what if _ something went wrong? What if Josh had a flashback?

Josh’s mom bestowed a list of things to watch for and things to remind Josh to do (drink water, eat, take the medication stored in a red and white pill case handed to Tyler before they left, rest after exertion, etc).  As if Tyler didn’t know those same rules, hadn’t been with Josh nonstop since the hospital.  As if he wasn’t observing Josh’s every little movement in fear of  _ something bad _ happening, again.

Tyler felt creepy staring at Josh sleeping for another night in a row, and instead paced around the house.  It was mostly empty, and the coziness factor wasn’t helped by the fact the owner had been gone for most of the time it had been his.  Josh had complained about never having time to decorate or drive his car since they were always on tour, but he was proud of owning a house.

This wasn’t his first time in Josh’s house virtually alone, besides keeping his drums pristine, Tyler just needed to  _ be there _ even though they’d never spent much time there together.  Something about watching out for the place symbolized helping Josh, wherever he was.  Tyler always needed control, and the loss of that, the unknown over the last year, was too much for him.  That’s why he had needed this semi-regular inspection.

Satisfied,  Tyler ended up in the living room again.   Josh was just as he had left him—flat on his back with arms wrapped around his middle as if he was hugging himself.  Tyler watched his face and breathing for any signs of distress, but for the second night in a row, Josh was peaceful, and at least this time, on a surface softer than a floor.

Tyler decided that it must be safe for him to sleep too, and he lay down on the other couch.  The last thing he saw, before his eyes grew too heavy to keep open, was Josh give a slight twitch and mumble slightly in his sleep.

His thoughts tumbled strangely together to create a weird amalgam of images and sensations he didn’t remember seeing or feeling before.  Josh’s reappearance was really causing a huge change in him.

_ He was in a room of all white, not sure if he was standing or lying down.  He floated to a wall and  _ pressed _ with all his force.  Lights blinked in the corners of his eyes and a series of beeps preceded a pneumatic hiss to reveal a hallway of yellow in front of his white room.  _

_ He ventured out, footsteps loud in the empty corridor.   _ Tyler was sure he’d been here before.  He remembered it _. He needed to leave--there was something he had to find.  He had no idea how to get it there. _

_ It felt like he took years to wander, and his heart rate increased as nothing came looking for him.  Where were they?  He felt airy, hazy.  Maybe he was just going to wind through the labyrinth forevermore, until he died. _

_ The hallway changed suddenly, yellow turning back to blinding white, then glass windows.  There was nothing in the rooms beyond this barrier _ —Tyler needed to know what he was looking for— _ and he pressed his face to the glass to see if there was anything within sight _ . 

_ A sharp turn changed everything and he ducked down low, body protesting the sudden movement downwards.  He was almost spotted.  He slowly, slowly moved up and peeked into this new room, heart in his throat. _

_ Grey...figures, if you could call them that, were moving inside.  They were human sized, but they weren’t human.  There were four figures--three with narrow tall heads and the last with a wide oval one.  Their eyes, or what he assumed their eyes to be were completely black—they could really be looking anywhere, and he ducked down again in case he was spotted.  But they all seemed focused on something in a large square container in front of them.  The creatures were not what made him react, but the what they were touching.   _

Tyler felt an overwhelming need to bust in there, tear apart these...things and steal the moving, squalling, glowing...something  **they** dared to touch.  Tyler tried to squint, but the little moving bundle wouldn’t come into focus, the light it was emanating was too much for his eyes to see.  He could only hear it, and it sounded like a baby.  How had these creatures taken a human baby and worst of all, what were they going to do to it? Tyler  _ needed to save it. _

_ He pressed the wall desperately, hoping to find the hidden door again.  He needed his trick to work, even though he had no idea how he’d save the baby.  He didn’t care about any weapons the creatures would use against him _ — _ he was just going to tear everyone apart that stood in his way. _

_ The alarms rang as if they sensed he was planning to attack.  Or maybe they just realized he was missing.   _

_ There was no hiding. _

_ He knew they were coming _

_ He didn’t see what was happening on the other side of the glass, crouched low and ready to spring as footsteps thundered loudly from either end of the corridor and the hidden door opened several feet away from him. _

_ He didn’t even look _ — _ just threw himself at the nearest creature and tried to punch every inch of its slippery dry skin.  They felt like...like a snake but massive, and he was no match, his arms weak and movements like molasses. _

_ He was launched into the air by a force that knocked the oxygen from his lungs and he landed in the clutches of more aliens.  They didn’t let him hit the ground, and he struggled against their appendages carrying him away.  He struggled and fought the grey limbs pressing his arms down, until they lowered him to a corridor floor.  _

_ They were taking him back to that white room.  He was going to lie there for unknown days and days until they took him out and used him again.  He wasn’t going back there, he wasn’t going back there _ —

_ He kicked and they held his legs and arms to the metal floor, and he thrashed as something punctured the side of his neck, burning white hot.  He tried to resist the clouds descending, just realizing how clear he’d gotten.  He wouldn’t go back there, he wouldn’t go back there _ — _ what was that?  That light? _

_ His clothing had shifted and his eyes were drawn downwards.  His core shone with a illumination from within, white-bright at the center with red glowing skin like when a hand is pressed to a flashlight.  The light wasn’t from him. _

_ The light was in him. _

_ The light _ —

Time surged forward as Tyler submerged into the normal dark, unknowing of sleep.  Boring dreams came and went, and he slowly forgot that other dream, just feeling echoes of fear once he blinked awake on the couch.  Without thinking, he looked at his own stomach, and saw no sign of any light embedded within.  He shook his head, faintly remembering the dream, but in the light of day, what had felt so real and possible, was just silly exaggerations of the mind.

All this wondering about Josh’s abduction really had messed with his mind, Tyler realized.  He was losing his own tenuous grip on reality.  He’d barely been functioning with Josh gone, and sure, caring for Josh had given him purpose again, it wasn’t a fix for his problems.

Josh—where was Josh?

Tyler ran through the house, calling Josh’s name and hearing no response.  Tyler’s heart clenched, praying Josh didn’t try either the stairs to the basement or the second floor alone.  His balance was still precarious, and while the vertigo had lessened, they were all in fear of Josh falling from an unexpected attack.

Tyler went to the basement first, imagining Josh lying, bloody and dead from hitting every step on the way down to the concrete floor.  He reached for the light switch with hands overwhelmed from tremors.  

Nothing at the foot of the staircase—Tyler’s breath released in a quick whoosh.  He jogged down to inspect further; behind the hot water heater, under boxes, every inch of that basement, but still—nothing.

Tyler’s brief relief was replaced by  _ oh God, he’s gone again, oh God, oh God, it’s all my fault _ .  Tears were falling down his face and he hiccuped from choked sobs.  He couldn’t go through this again, he’d been given a chance to fix what had been left unsaid before, and Josh was  _ gone again _ .

The cars were still in the driveway, and the doors were all locked.  How had Josh gotten out, or anyone else gotten in?  Tyler couldn’t move anymore, he knelt on the floor and cried with his face rubbing against the rug.  Everyone was going to hate him, Josh’s mom would say ‘I told you so’, because Josh had disappeared, once again, on his watch.

A creak from upstairs startled Tyler from his misery on the floor.  In his panic, he’d forgotten to check the second floor.  Hope flared—Josh had to be up there.  He sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time, and shouting Josh’s name.  He kicked open every door until he came to Josh’s bedroom, hearing a soft grunting noise from within.  What the hell was happening in there?

Tyler flung open this last door and found Josh on the floor, the source of the weird noises.  But instead of groans of pain from some injury, he was—and Tyler didn’t expect it—doing sit-ups.  Josh was facing away from the door, earbuds in and music blasting, but the bang of the door against the wall was loud enough to have him look around.

“Hey man,” Josh grinned and pulled out his headphones, looking up at Tyler with a sheen of perspiration across his forehead.  He was in a tank top and workout leggings, sweat already darkening the fabric across his chest.

“What are you doing?” Tyler demanded, adrenaline still coursing through him.

“Working out—gotta get my beach bod back,” Josh said, quite out of breath, “Did like—so many crunches.  A casserole of crunches, just like we used to.”

And it was beyond Tyler to be mad at him, when he looked that pleased with himself.

“Dude, you gotta take it easy!  The doctors said you can’t do strenuous exercise for a while,”  Tyler reminded him.

“Ah, yeah, I guess,” Josh looked sad, “I didn’t do that many after all. Like...maybe forty?”

“Jeez dude, you look like you just ran a marathon,” Tyler offered a hand to help him stand.

“Honestly, I did like ten in a row and had to take a nap,” Josh laughed and staggered slightly, grabbing onto Tyler’s shoulder heavily, “Whoops, sorry. Stood up too quick”

Tyler held his hips to steady him, “Dude, you gotta be careful.”

They were face to face, closer and more alone than they’d been in such a long time.  Their breaths hitched simultaneously, and Tyler’s eyes dropped down to his friend’s lips.  They were still as pink as he remembered, and he wanted...he wanted…

“We should probably get something to eat,” Josh murmured, his face unreadable.

Tyler let his hands fall from Josh’s hips and felt the regret of letting Josh walk away from him—walk off that bus not telling him—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> best not to dwell in dreams


	5. Regret

Tyler _’s_ _eyes opened and all he saw was light.  It burnt his retinas.  His head felt like it had been compressed, and he was so, so cold.  He had no idea what happened to him, all he knew was that he was lying on something hard that made his bones ache.  He squeezed his eyes tight shut, not letting the light invade into his weak brain._

_ But then there were  _ things _ touching him.  Warm, but they weren’t fingers attached to any sort of human hands.  They pressed against his ribs, his neck, the soles of his feet as if discovering what his skin felt like.  He held still, fighting the urge to draw away or move.  The poking grew more and more insistent as if they were trying to wake him, but he resolutely held back any reaction _

_ All of a sudden, something wrapped around his throat, constricting his airway.  Against his will, his eyes flew open as he gasped.  As quick as it happened, it was over _ — _ the pressure left his neck, and his vision cleared to register these...creatures standing over him.  Their appendages, for they weren’t like hands or arms like he’d ever seen, were moving across his body.  He squirmed and tried to move away but he was being held down by thick plastic straps that held his body to the table. _

what was happening. why was he here. oh God. help. help.

_ A whirring noise like a dentist’s drill started somewhere near his elbow and he twisted his head, feeling wires move against his skin from where they were placed on his forehead.  He could only see a bit of the machine from the edge of his peripheral vision, in the grasp of these black-eyed aliens.  He could feel the heat as it neared the soft skin of his forearm. _

_ He screamed, knowing what was going to come. _ Tyler awoke, covered in sweat.

* * *

They lived side-by-side; Josh not allowed to be alone, and Tyler unable to trust himself to solitude.  They went for walks, practiced music, out to the movies, and Josh got stronger.  His endurance increased, aches and dizziness faded, and most importantly, he was able to play drums for song after song.  Tyler let himself imagine and plan their next tour, trying to ignore the dreams of doorless rooms and prodding hands.

Josh’s body healed faster than his mind and the strange quirks he had acquired during his year of captivity.  Most days, Tyler would come downstairs to find the drummer asleep on the kitchen table, or hunt until he found him in the bathtub, with just a sheet as coverage.  He’d just shrug it off, and slowly Tyler stopped finding him there.

Josh had also preferred to spend hours outside when they weren’t rehearsing, watching the sky both day and night.

“See anything up there?” Tyler shouted from the deck one night, a little frustrated by Josh  _ not talking _ to him about anything.  It’d been a month, and since those first early days, they hadn’t made progress.  Josh went to therapy now, but he’d admitted that those sessions were spent in near silence.  Tonight, the drummer had been outside since dinner, staring up at the stars in a trance.

Josh shook his head and walked back towards him across the backyard.  Tyler noticed a slight limp—his knee must be bothering him again—and Josh was once again clutching his abdomen.

“Is your stomach hurting you?” Tyler asked, suddenly realizing how often Josh did that.

“No,” Josh said softly, moving past him.  

This became Tyler’s latest worry.  Was Josh just hiding pain?  Though he hadn’t been malnourished, what if he was having trouble tolerating normal food again?  Whoever had had him clearly did things to him, so was this just a side effect of the experimentation?

It seemed also to be a nervous tic, a subconscious gesture of anxiety—or maybe of comfort?  Sometimes Josh would hear a sound or startle, and his hand would fly to his stomach as if bracing himself.  Tyler didn’t want to be a jerk and call him out on it, so he let this slide.  He let a lot of things pass, and wondered if it really was for Josh’s benefit not to  address it.

* * *

_ He had no more room for tears, everything was taken from him.  His skin pulled and pricked and burnt.  They’d been doing things to him he didn’t understand and wished he didn’t know.  He prayed for death more than he prayed for rescue.   _

_ He felt so alone. _

_ There was so much he regretted. _

_ He was transported to the back lounge of their bus by the wings of memory, and could see the both of them as if he was watching from above _ .

_ “Josh, dude _ — _ stop!” he giggled, lips playing with his neck, “That tickles!  You can’t leave marks.” _

_ “I wanna,” he growled back, “Wanna make you mine.  Everyone to know.” _

_ “Uh, what?” He pulled back and looked at the drummer’s face, seeing desire and vulnerability.  This was the moment they’d been dancing around for months...years. _

_ “I just _ — _ I love you, Tyler,” his nerve was failing him, biting his lip and realizing that he’d let slip his true feelings. _

_ “I love you too, but...What do you mean?” He was still straddling the other’s lap, but all playfulness was gone from the scene, “We _ — _ we’re just _ — _ this wasn’t supposed to be anything serious.  I thought you wanted _ — _ ” _

_ “Yeah, but, I want more.  I thought _ — _ you’ve always said I ‘ruined’ you for everyone else.  That you couldn’t give me up for long enough to date anyone else.  So why not?” The words came in a rush as if he’d been holding them back for a long, long time, “Why not date me instead?” _

_ “Josh _ — _ I _ — _ I don’t know what to say.  We can’t.  We just can’t,”  He moved away, slipping to kneel on the floor.  The one bearing his heart covered his face with his hands, realizing everything was going wrong.  By opening his mouth, he was ruining even this half-relationship. _

_ “Give me one good reason why not and _ — _ no, Tyler,” his voice was muffled, choked with pain, “Saying ‘your parents wouldn’t approve’ or that we’d be attacked in the media aren’t good enough reasons.” _

_ “The band _ —  _ What if we break up?” _

_ “Fuck that,” He stood up, shaking with anger, “You’re not giving me...not giving us a chance.  Goddamnit, let yourself be happy.” _

_ He was still on the floor, scared that the other had cursed.  He knew he was hearing reason, but couldn’t let himself act on it. _

_ “I need air.  I gotta walk,” He sounded close to tears. _

_ And he was gone, and  _ Tyler was left feeling as if he’d destroyed the greatest thing to happen to him.  The most important person in his life, he had hurt him worse than Tyler knew how to fix.

He was gone and Tyler had denied them happiness.  Had driven him away and if he hadn’t...if he’d said yes.  Josh would never have disappeared.

Tyler awoke to a gentle hand rubbing his shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Josh’s voice was soothing as sobs wracked Tyler’s body.

“I’m so sorry, Josh,” Tyler cried into his pillow and curled into a ball, “I hurt you so bad, and you were gone and everything was ruined.  I’m so sorry.  All my fault.  All my fault.”

“I’m here, Tyler.  I’m right here,” Josh lay next to him, and wrapped Tyler in his arms, “Go back to sleep, it’s gonna be okay.”

Tyler realized the next day that this was the longest Josh let anyone touch him for, spending the rest of the night in bed with him.

* * *

 

They set a timer, and printed out a set list from the last tour.  It seemed insurmountable—twenty one songs and a ten minute medley.  They were going to try, right here in Josh’s basement.  Just the two of them; they thought about asking Mark, but something unspoken told them it had to be done alone.  It was going to take hours, and Tyler was already cutting songs out of the rotation.  They were going to tour, they agreed they wanted to go soon, and he decided he would be fine with a shorter show.

There was glint in Josh’s eye and kept going even as his face reddened and sweat poured from his body.  Tyler hunted for a couple fans to blow cool air on Josh, and turned down the thermostat.  

Josh thumbed the bottom of his shirt,  Tyler was surprised it was still on this far into the set.  They were going so slow, taking a lot of breaks and Tyler kept saying that this wasn’t the time for Josh to pass out.  The tank top was soaked with sweat  and clinging to Josh’s skin. 

“Bro, just take your shirt off.  Only me here,” Tyler handed him a bottle of water.

Josh shook his head, “No, I can’t—I’m all...it doesn’t look—I’m not ready to,” Josh waved his hand towards his torso.  

“That’s okay, man,” Tyler played a few chords on the piano, “Ready for the next song?”

They made it through hours later.  The whole set, and only one long break for food and rest.  It wasn’t their best show but they finished at least, and they decided to treat themselves to Taco Bell.  

“Good job,” Tyler grinned, “I'm proud of you.”

“I kinda sucked, but thanks.  Only can improve from here, I guess.” Josh shrugged, taking a bite.

“You were brilliant,” Tyler insisted and Josh blushed.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Josh admitted.

“Neither could I,” Tyler finally felt the courage to say what he’d been waiting a year to say, “And...I’m sorry.”

Josh titled his head, confused, “‘Bout what?”

“For what happened before.  The day you...disappeared.”

“Oh,” Josh looked uncomfortable and scared, “That’s okay.  I mean...so much has happened.  It doesn’t even matter now.”

“Yeah it does,” Tyler interrupted, “And this is the stupidest time to, like, mention it, but dude, I love you a lot.  I did so much thinking in the past year and I realized that...that I couldn’t...couldn’t understand how I could’ve let you walk off that bus without telling you—”

Tyler choked and Josh wasn’t looking at him anymore, staring down at his knees.

“Gosh, this is so dumb,” Tyler smacked himself on the head, “I’m sorry for bringing it up, it’s just been on my mind.  And this weight on my chest.  But there’s so much going on in your life.  You need time to recover and get back to how it used to be.  Back on the road, back performing.  You don’t need me just comin’ along and messing everything up.  Sorry.” 

Josh nodded, thinking hard, “It’s okay,” he said quietly, “I thought a lot about it too, and like...I still feel that way.  I guess it’s okay if you don’t, especially since now...Now is a really bad time.  You’re right.  And I don’t want you to say yes to me cuz you pity me or you missed me.  Just...don’t say anything now.  Let’s just go back home.”

And Tyler kept his mouth shut, even though it was so close to bubbling out of him and spilling between the two of them.  He’d practically said it, but Josh….Josh wasn’t ready.  And it was damn selfish of him, Tyler, to bring it up as if forcing the conversation.  This was so stupid he wanted to slam his hands against the steering wheel and curse the sky for their misfortune.

Instead they drove in silence, forgetting to even turn on the radio to mask what wasn’t being said.

* * *

They didn’t spend every single minute of every day together, though most people assumed that.  Tyler and Josh went out with other friends and even did things on their own once Josh was well enough to be by himself.  So Tyler wanted everyone to know that, especially Mark, who kept ribbing him.

“Dude, check your phone.  It’s been, like, more than thirty seconds since you looked to see if Josh texted you,” Mark let out a cheer as Tyler’s character exploded on the screen.

“Sorry—he wasn’t feeling that well this morning and, like, just in case he needs me to pick him up or something,” Tyler sighed and trailed off, “I’m being stupid.  I’m hovering too much.”

“I get it though,” Mark paused the game, “It was a rough year for everyone.  And you’ve always been, uh, protective, so I understand you’re kinda...adjusting.”

Tyler shrugged and reached for a handful of chips, picking his next words carefully, “You’ve hung out with him, you’ve been watching him as well.  Doesn’t it seem like...don’t you think?  I dunno—there’s just something off about Josh.”

“I expected him to be different,” Mark replied, “He’s been through a lot, but yeah.  Has he opened up to you at all?  Has he started talking at therapy?”

“Nada,” Tyler sighed, “He’s bottling it all up, just letting it out when he drums.  Jeez, he’s broken so many drum heads at this point, I’m just going to have to order them in bulk.”

Mark didn’t laugh, just nodded.

“I wish I just knew what to say to get him to open up,” Tyler exclaimed, kicking his feet in frustration, “He’s holding back .  Doesn’t he know I’ll be there no matter what?  I wish—I wish.”

“I know,”  Mark sighed, “It sucks not being able to help.  He deserves—Josh doesn’t deserve this.”

Tyler got home first, though it wasn’t actually his house.  He was still living in Josh’s spare room, though his own house was not far away.  Even though Josh had a fairly clean bill of health and no flashbacks or seizures, they understood he needed another body close by to keep an eye on him.  They explained it away as a band boot camp—practicing, practicing, and writing new music.

It was late, so Tyler headed straight to bed, but he couldn’t rest with Josh still not home.  Not a word—so, he checked his texts and then Josh’s social media accounts.  Just one Snapchat from earlier in the night; just a video of Josh sipping water while one of  _ their _ songs played in the background.  Nothing to be worried out, right?  Josh could handle himself.

Tyler left his phone on a pillow next to him as he tried to sleep, but instead stared, waiting for a notification to light up the screen.  He nearly levitated out of bed when the front door opening and closing startled him out of a trance.  Tyler listened to his friend fumble around in the kitchen, and then light footsteps creaking the stairs, but Josh didn’t walk towards his own room.  The door to the spare room opened, and Josh’s head poked in.

“I’m back,” Josh whispered.

“Did you have a fun night?” Tyler asked, not a trace of sleep in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Josh giggled, “Got something to show you.” 

He flicked on the light, and Tyler examined his sheepishly excited face, “Didja get a tattoo or something?”

“Nah,” He reached for the beanie on his head and pulled it off to reveal his new haircut.  Gone were the dark, natural curls Tyler was so happy to have back.  They had looked so soft and healthy, unlike the dead ‘fluff’ he had accumulated from too much bleach.  Now his head was back to buzzed on the sides, but the color was something new.

It was light purple—lavender and pastel soft.  Josh was simply ethereal, and Tyler didn’t know what to say.

“Does it look good?”  Josh asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice, “I just felt like it’s time to start looking like myself again.”

Tyler bit back his thoughts, and looked at Josh again, “Yeah, it’s sick.”  He smiled as best he could, the weight of his early conversation with Mark still at the forefront of his mind.  Josh needed to talk to him.  They’d been dancing around this too long; all the strange behaviors, the weird dreams, and the fact Josh apparently did not trust him enough to tell what had happened.

But he looked so happy, and as much as Tyler preferred his natural hair, he knew this was how Josh expressed himself.  Josh was starting to act like himself, and Tyler needed to let him do that.  He needed to stop raining on Josh’s parade, stop trying to find a way to make Josh relive what he’d been through, stop lying awake all night, which was exactly what he was doing.

The dreams wouldn’t even claim him now; the visions that were just by-products of his mind spinning wild imaginings of UFOs and aliens.  They were terrifying and frustrating and they were repeating every few days.  The same scenes; waking up with the creatures standing over him, hours of being strapped to a table while fighting against being prodded and probed, running through the corridors, and floating in endless light.

He tried researching what the dreams meant, besides the obvious fact that Josh’s apparent delusions were invading his own mind, but the results were inconclusive.  All the websites were vague explanations that “you may have some confusion in your life”, which was true, but could reference really anything.

Tyler tossed and turned some more, until he gave up and decided to pace through the house.  There was no light coming from under Josh’s door, so Tyler let him be, walking downstairs to just have a glass of water or something.  Tyler walked up and down the stairs, until exhaustion set in finally, but this time when he walked past Josh’s room, there was a blue glow coming from within.

The light changed and fluctuated in length as  _ something _ moved inside the room.  He pressed his ear to the door, listening for anything unusual and hearing a soft, unintelligible murmuring that was definitely Josh’s voice, along with a vibrating humming noise that changed pitch frequently.  It sounded like Josh was talking to  _ something _ just by the way he paused and responded, but there was no reply.  Just the eerie light and ominous humming.

Tyler inched the door open slowly, not even pausing to think about the invasion of privacy.  What he saw made him forget to be stealthy as shock and confusion hit him like a brick wall.

Josh was most certainly talking to  _ something, _ several  _ somethings _ in fact.  Three orbs of intense light were bobbing in the air, each emitting their own unique frequency and darting around the room.  They moved back and forth to Josh, the drummer unperturbed by heat or pain as the orbs touched him and then bounced back to hover a few feet off the ground.  The smallest orb was circling the scene as if it could not contain its energy from excitement.

And Josh was illuminated from the spheres, radiating peace and contentment, the lavender of his hair periwinkle now.  His eyes cast in shadow, Tyler couldn’t see if Josh was awake or simply sleep-talking with shut eyes.  A gentle smile soothed him briefly, before Tyler noticed that Josh too, was hovering a foot above the bed.  He sat with crossed legs, and floated with the orbs.  

Tyler rubbed his eyes, in full belief that he was having a lucid dream.  But even a pinch to his arm only stung—the sight in front of him did not change.  It was real.  How could this be?

He stepped into the room, “Josh?  What the—?”

The orbs flashed gold and all began to hum loud enough to make him clutch at his ears.  They moved so quick, Tyler couldn’t see how Josh reacted, if he even noticed that Tyler had barged in.  The orbs collided with his chest and knocked him back into the door frame.  A sudden, sharp knock on the side of his head, a pain as he bit down on his cheek, and black exploded across his vision.  Tyler knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoopsie daisy. a cliffhanger


	6. Reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have I lost you? where'd you go? my faithful friend, I can't find you.

_ Only his arms and head were strapped to the table this time, allowing him to writhe against the pain ripping apart his abdomen.  His legs kicked and twisted and curled trying to find a position that lessened the feeling of being torn, of being clawed from within.  He was sure he was dying, and he prayed it would come quickly. _

_ All he could see were the massive arms of some robotic device _ — _ in a few appendages there were sharp tools that looked like massive scalpels.  Others had dark globes that blinked red and ticked occasionally.  He had the impression they were cameras, as the arms moved to different angles around him.   _

_ The creatures would appear occasionally, silently adjusting sensors placed on his body.  He screamed and cursed at them, begging to them to stop _ — _ for the pain to end _ — _ to die.  They only hummed and clicked at him, in the mysterious language that made no sense.   _

_ After what felt like hours, their humming grew more excited and a huge pack of them gather around the table.  They poked his stomach and he tried to kick out, but let out a scream as another burst of pain incapacitated him.  He blacked out momentarily and came back to the realization that one of them was stroking his arm almost tenderly.  He shuddered.  After all these experiments, why were they being affectionate with him? _

_ They wiped the sweat off his forehead and a small pinch in his arm administered something that warmed and expanded throughout his body.  The pain eased and he was finally able to relax as the drug clouded his mind.  He didn’t care that his legs were being strapped down and something cold and wet slathered across his abdomen. _

_ They gave him the pain.  They took it away.  He was their prisoner and they could whatever they wanted to him.  He no longer cared.  He floated away and tried to remember every inch of their first touring van, every band they toured with, and he couldn’t _ — _ couldn’t remember even his own bandmate’s face. _

_ There was tremendous pressure on his lower half that stole his breath, and he gasped for air, closing his eyes to picture being somewhere, anywhere else.  All happy thoughts were extinguished by the realization he really was being torn apart.  He smelt his own blood and, unable to turn his head to see, imagined internal organs being removed one by one until he was empty on the inside.  They had finished their experiments and were now just killing him, and he was alone and so far away from all who he loved. _

_ The aliens hummed louder and louder, and the machine above moved with them.  In a grand crescendo, the pressure lifted and they seemed to cheer as the light in the room changed. _

_ His head spun and he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. _

_ He was falling, he was weak from blood loss. _

_ There was a single wail _ — _ a cry and he fell unconscious _ .

* * *

Tyler came to with a throbbing headache and his cheek pressed into the soft carpet.  He was still in the doorway of Josh’s room, but Josh was nowhere to be seen.  A window was open, blowing in a cold breeze full of moonlight.

Tyler felt nauseous as he tried to move, taking ages to crawl to his knees and then shuffle to the bed to drag himself into a standing position.  

“Josh?!” He called out, head ringing with the effort.

Nothing.

“Josh, are you there?!” He screamed, panicked.

The silence surged him to his feet, and Tyler started running through the house.  

The doors were all locked, the keys still in the bowl by the front door, and his phone on the bedside table.  Tyler collapsed, kneeling on the floor of Josh’s room again, in front of the open window.  Josh was actually gone.

Tyler couldn’t move, certain this was another nightmare—his dreams had been plagued by them for so long, hopefully they’d just crossed into a hyper-realistic dimension.  He blacked out again, coming to an hour later and still  _ no Josh _ .

He couldn’t decide what to do.  Call and just incite more panic as everyone started to look for Josh? Should he wait till morning?  How did he explain the lights?  He didn’t want them all to look at him as if he was losing it too, and besides, he didn’t know what he believed anymore.  How could he reason what he saw?  Maybe that was a dream, maybe he had some sort of delusion from hitting his head.  There was no way aliens existed.

Tyler was so angry, wanting to punch and kick anyone because he had to go through this again.  How could Josh do this to him?  He was too reliant on Josh’s presence to feel okay, he needed to get out.

The night seemed to last for eternity, and he found himself in front of that window, looking up at the sky for a sign that wasn’t coming.  There were no lights besides the streetlamps and stars that twinkled uncaring.  All the progress was for naught, all the hopes were dashed.  There would be no grand comeback or return, Tyler was sure now, Josh wasn’t meant to be here.  Clouds covered the stars, rain beginning to fall.  It sprinkled Tyler’s face in place of tears that were unable to flow from his eyes.

The doorbell rang as the black faded to rainy grey. Tyler couldn’t care enough to answer it.  Petulantly, it rung again, not stopping until Tyler dragged himself from the floor and downstairs to answer the door.  

Josh looked blissful, and Tyler wondered if he may be high.  He smiled lazily, purple hair plastered to his forehead from the drizzle, but otherwise unmarked and unharmed.

“Hey,” he sighed and stepped past into the house.

“Where the hell were you?” Tyler’s rage boiled over.  He’d been terrified, head throbbing and certain Josh was gone for good this time, and now he turned up looking  _ happy _ .

“I walked to the park,” Josh explained in a soft voice, not even the vaguest hint of worry creasing his content face.  He was almost at the stairs before Tyler grabbed his arm and turned him around to meet him face to face.

“Seriously, man.  What the hell was that?  Those things?!”

“I’m really sorry.  I just...I can’t tell you,”  he tried to pull away, but Tyler’s grip was stronger than either expected.

“No.  Enough.  No more of this ‘I can’t say.  You won’t believe me’ bullshit,” Tyler wasn’t even aware he was swearing, just riding the wave of anger coursing through him.  Josh went absolutely still and finally, satisfyingly, looked afraid.  “I saw them,”  Tyler’s voice dropped; low and quiet.  “I saw the lights, and I want answers.  They knocked me out, and you’re going to tell me what the hell happened.  Now.”

Josh’s face crumbled, and Tyler immediately felt guilt.

“Oh God.  Josh—no.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean—I’m so sorry.  I was just so scared.  I—”  Josh cowered as Tyler approached him with arms outstretched.

“You don’t know—you don’t understand,” Josh shuddered and dropped to the ground.  He wrapped his arms around his legs as he curled into a protective ball.

Tyler knelt next to him, “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry,” getting his anger out didn’t help.  He had ruined everything; Josh wouldn’t even let Tyler touch him, now.   “Please help me understand.  I’m here.  I love you.  Let me help you.”

Josh didn’t cry; he stayed hunched over, back rising and falling with each ragged breath.  Tyler waited, completely still, even though his knees dug painfully into the hardwood floor.

“Do you believe me?  Please be honest,” Josh asked, voice heavy with distress.

“I—I don’t know.  It’s so...I can’t…I’ve been having dreams.  And I think they’re your...memories.  They feel so real—creatures standing over me, hurting me...you.  The spaceship.  I don’t want to believe, but—but.  Josh, what did they do to you?”

“I’ve been trying to, uh I’ve thought a lot about how to tell you.  And nothing sounds right.  I don’t even know how...it still sounds impossible to me.  I, uh, I can’t say it,” Josh uncurled and sat on his butt, looking down at his empty hands.

Tyler settled too, placing a hand on Josh’s shoulder and finding it was allowed. “What were those...things last night?” Tyler implored.

“They were...they are.  Tyler—You’re gonna think I’m crazy,” Josh’s hands shook and he ran them through his hair. 

“No, I won’t,” Tyler thought vaguely about making promises he couldn’t keep, “You’ve kept this secret for so long; tell me.”

“They’re my children,” Josh confessed.

It was one of those things, where the ears hear something so contrary to all thought and logic, that the brain immediately fails to process and understand what was being told to it.  Tyler grasped at sense and felt it slip away.  In that moment life lost reason and slipped into a surrealist fantasy.

“The—the lights?”  Tyler asked and Josh nodded, “Did you...did you like, ‘get it on’ with an alien chick or something?”

Josh made a noise somewhere between disgust and hilarity, “Dude, I’m trying to be serious.”

“Sorry,” Tyler said quickly, “So they’re, um, your kids.  Uh, how?”

“You think I understand alien science?  Nah man, they just put ‘em in me and then…”  He waved his hands.

“Okay...okay,” Tyler mumbled and started to tug at his hair.  He felt out-of-body—he was listening to nonsense.  This was absurd.

“Josh....”  he picked his words carefully, “You’re not—you, uh, don’t have a, um, uterus.  I mean...you said they used drugs on you and messed with your mind.  How do you know that they didn’t just make you  _ think _ that you were, uh...carrying a child,”  Tyler was hesitant to even use the words.

“Yeah, I hoped that it was all delirium, but then I looked at my stomach and...and there’s scarring,” Josh lifted his shirt and Tyler saw the proof.  Silver stretchmarks marred the skin and a large scar transversed his usually toned abdomen, but was now softened and marked. 

“Oh….shit,” Tyler gasped, and mind continued to reject what his senses were showing him, “This can’t be possible.  This can’t be real.  Josh—there’s no such thing as aliens.”

“Yes there are,” Josh sounded so tired, as if Tyler was acting exactly as he expected, and he was disappointed, yet prepared, “You’ve seen proof.  You’ve seen my memories, and my scars.  You saw my kids with your own eyes.  You have to believe me, because you’re my only hope.”

“You’re gonna have to give me time,” Tyler begged, “Please.  It’s a lot.” He couldn’t believe this.  He could never believe it.

“Fine,” Josh said shortly, “Take all the time you need.  I’ll just be busy living with it till then.”  He stood up abruptly, “I’m going to bed; sorry if I’ve been disturbing your sleep with my traumatic flashbacks.”

“Josh, don’t—” he ignored Tyler, and disappeared upstairs to his room, door shutting loudly.

His head throbbed and he was tempted to leave.  He had overstayed his welcome at Josh’s house, he had hovered for too long.  What had he been waiting for? Josh to confess his love back, and Tyler would be able to fix him?  There was no one to repair what had been broken, besides Josh himself.  And Tyler needed to give him the space to do that.

Tyler had his car keys in hand, about to drive home for the first time in days, to spend the first night in his own bed since Josh had returned, but he stopped himself.  A mental image of Josh waking up to an empty house the next day; utter silence as his mind replayed what had just happened.  Tyler knew Josh would beat himself up over the argument, that he’d stew in regret for telling Tyler, and been shut down so severely.

Tyler couldn’t leave with this mess and let Josh suffer alone with no resolution.  He did need to leave, but not like this.  They made a promise to never go to sleep angry at each other, and while Josh had already stormed off, Tyler wasn’t going to be the one to walk out the door and make it even worse.  They’d talk in the morning.  They were going to be okay, even if Tyler had to fight the universe to make it so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> teeentyonepilots on tumblr. feel free to share your thoughts. be kind.


	7. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past can't be changed, but the future is ours

Josh was chilly in the morning, begrudgingly eating his cereal while Tyler searched for the right words across from him at the kitchen table.

“Look...man, I’m sorry for flipping out on you.  It was a rough day yesterday, and I wasn’t thinking straight.  Your kids did knock me out after all.  That’s, uh, not cool for them to do to their uncle, huh?”  Tyler appeased, and Josh looked at him blankly, “So, yeah.  I’m having a tough time accepting….nah, I mean understanding, what happened to you when you were taken, but I’m still yours to talk to.  I trust you, and I hope you’ll trust me.”

Josh shrugged, “Okay...I mean, thanks.  I kinda just want to forget about it all and move forward.  Like, I dunno, starting to think about a tour?  That’d be cool.”

“It must’ve been a relief to see your kids,” Tyler plowed on, unable to let go, as if all this compensating for the fact he couldn’t accept it as true, meant he would harp on about it forever, “Three?  In a year?  How?”

“Time was kinda hard to tell up there, but like, it didn’t taken nine months to, um, grow them.  So yeah, had ‘em quickly so they grew up quickly.  And uh yeah it was great seeing them, except it wasn’t actually them.  Kinda like projections of them from wherever they actually are.  I don’t know if and when I’d ever get the chance to be _with_ them again, but who knows,” Josh sighed, “Dude, can we talk about the band?  I really wanna focus on that.”

“Oh, okay,” Tyler, for once in his life, let the subject go, and began to discuss details about the comeback show, which obviously should be a hometown show.  And they were going to call their label that day to start setting it up.

Quickly, they were distracted by preparations for the show.  It was going to be a one night gig in Columbus; they’d see how this went and then venture out on the road again.  Tyler kept insisting they’d ‘start small, go slow,’ but Josh seemed to want to jump right back into the deep end.  Tyler couldn’t resist the enthusiasm, so they added more dates to at least start with a month straight of touring at sizeable venues, all of which sold out within minutes.  

Tyler knew everyone; Josh’s family, his own family, their friends, the crew—everyone thought it was a bad idea, but they didn’t see how much _Josh_ needed it.  They both needed it, but Tyler could see how much better Josh was doing with a target to keep his eyes on.  Also, part of him hoped that Josh would forget about his delusions since they were just so busy.

Tyler did go home after that night and stayed at his own house from then onwards, but he and Josh did spend nearly every day together in getting ready.  Thankfully, things had returned to normal between them.  Well, as normal as they could be under the circumstances of dancing around their secrets; the ones they had before and after the abduction.

There was so much hype before the show, that Tyler found himself waking up, not from nightmares about Josh’s time in captivity—those had pretty much subsided now they had some physical distance between them—but about failure; his old enemy.  He saw oceans of faces laughing at them as he forgot the words, played the wrong notes, fell.  Or, even worse, Josh screwing up and looking absolutely crushed; eyes full of defeat and Tyler wouldn’t be able to help him as the demons taunted them both.  

Objectively speaking, it was going to be a great show; they had put a great deal of production in, almost as compensation for the fans to help cancel out the year away.  But Tyler couldn’t see that.  He could only foresee an opportunity for criticism and ridicule, and the days before were full of the worst show anxiety in his life.  He was snappy at everyone, except Josh, who was looking vulnerable enough to be the only person he felt protective of.  Tyler’s bad mood was so bad that Josh was tasked by everyone else to take him out for a fun, relaxing night, before he was murdered.

“Dude, you gotta chill,” Josh said placatingly, a whole pizza pie for the two of them at their favorite pizza place, though Tyler was reluctant to eat due to the knots in his stomach, “We can’t both be wrecks, and I forbid you from passing out on stage.”

Tyler’s head fell into his arms, “M’being stupid,” his voice was muffled.

“Yeah you are, but I’m, like, used to it,” Josh laughed, “We’ve been practicing nonstop for weeks and weeks. We’ve just gotta go out there and do our thing, okay?” He reached over to squeeze Tyler’s elbow.

“Oh my God!  It’s you! Both of you,” several teenagers exclaimed, approaching their table, and Tyler put on his best impression of his own face.

They signed autographs for the exuberant fans, and usually Tyler would be a bit disconcerted about being recognized in public.  He normally would feel panic about them exclaiming how excited they were for the show the next day, but this time, there was relief.  The true fans would love them no matter if they went out on stage and bombed.  They’d just be happy to see them, and that’s who he...they...should be doing this for.  

Tyler didn’t expect to sleep well that night, or even be able to sleep at all.  But walking out of that pizza place with Josh’s arm across his shoulders made him feel peacefully sleepy for the first time in awhile.

And they ‘straight-up killed it’ as everyone exclaimed during and after.  It wasn’t perfect by any means, but the energy and passion was there, and that’s what mattered.  Tyler’s voice was so choked by the end, overwhelmed by tears and happiness, he could barely get out a ‘thank you’.  He hoped the fans understood he just couldn’t say the words ‘we are twenty one pilots and so are you’ without losing what little composure he had left.  In the terrible year that had just passed, he hadn’t let himself fantasize about being back _here_ in this moment, with Josh beside him and all the fans in front of them.

It was more than he could hope for, and he dissolved into sobs as soon as they walked off stage.  Josh held him, clinging together like the sweaty clothes bunched between them as they grappled for purchase on each other’s skin.  Tyler’s hands found their way into Josh’s hair, holding firm as if to hold the brain of the one he loved so much; to transmit how much he _felt_ directly into him.

And Josh seemed to receive the message, one finger coming to tilt Tyler’s chin and their lips touched, like they had many times before, but not in oh so long.

“Is it okay if I keep doing this?” Josh whispered after the brief meeting.

Tyler was fully aware of the stagehands around them, and the fact they were barely backstage; that there were people _watching_ them.  They avoided staring at them pointedly, but he knew they were all taking note of this grand reveal.  Maybe the news would be shared before Josh and him could even have the chance to discuss what the new chapter in their relationship would be.  Josh was clearly feeling ready for something more, but what that something was, was not yet clear to Tyler.

“Please,” Tyler breathed, “But not right now.  We’ve gotta—Later.  I promise.”

Josh gave him a look of such _need_ —not sexual, just total, complete openness.  He took Tyler’s hand within his own, and let the singer guide him to the dressing rooms, to where their families and friends waited in celebration.  Tyler was so, so proud of him.  To go out in front of all those people after such tribulations, and _still nail that backflip_. Josh amazed him.

And Josh would continue to amaze him as each show was better and better than the first.  Josh was getting so much better, Tyler felt that this was a completely person than the weak, pale Josh who collapsed the first time he tried to stand.  They were close to being back to the way they were before the kidnapping—several times, moments alone in hotel rooms, kissing and holding each other, though still no definition to their relationship.  He almost forgot the dreams; exhaustion leaving him with undisturbed sleep, and Josh didn’t talk at all about what he had confessed.

And maybe Tyler was just highlighting those good times, glossing over the little details that showed Josh was far from okay.  He still refused to take off his shirt no matter how hot it got in the bus or onstage.  He’d shudder away from physical contact unless he was the one to initiate it.  

There’d be long periods of time where Josh seemed to be in another world, staring off into the distance, or up at the sky.  Those spacey days were most tough for him; reluctant to talk, jumpy around people, and they’d all usually discover his bunk’s mattress on the floor as Josh slept flat on his back upon the plan wood.  And those would be the days Tyler dreamt of probes and pain and touching a warm stomach that glowed.

If he had to quantify, he’d say this was the time he would have been most inclined to believe Josh’s story.  It was the only explanation, since there was no concrete evidence to support any other, more logical theory.  Tyler almost accepted that aliens exist, that Josh, in some inexplicable, illogical way somehow had three alien children, but then Thomas David Miller was killed in a shoot-out with police.

* * *

The police had never looked at him as a person of interest in several unresolved disappearances of young men and women throughout the state.  He was not a tall man, early forties with thin, stringy, mousy hair, permanent scruff, and teeth yellowed from decades of smoking.  He was known in town as the man who came every other Sunday for food shopping, the busybodies remarking his family was from the county, but lived in a different town.  His job was undetermined; maybe something with phone calls—no one was too sure.  He didn’t get out much, to say the least, except for an occasional appearance in the local bars.

He definitely had a type—doe-eyed people from out-of town with piercings that marked them different than the average local.  He kept a collection of their teeth and body jewelry, the police discovered once they managed to raid the fortress that was his house.

What had tipped them off was an anonymous call on a scratchy line with a voice that warbled in an accent that no one in the station had heard before.  They were guided to Thomas David Miller’s property at the end of a dirt road surrounded by ill-maintained fields on the promise that half their cold cases would be solved by digging up the land near his fishing pond.  

When the detectives started up the path to the front door, gunfire erupted from a boarded-up window.  One detective was struck and smartly played dead, her partner running back to the car to radio for backup.  The hot sun beat down on her wounded body as she prayed he wouldn’t try for another killshot.  

Cops from all over the state came for siege that lasted well into the night.  Thomas David Miller had apparently prepared—house impenetrable to the SWAT team without setting off booby traps.  He shouted that they’d never take him alive, and so they didn’t.  All they had to do was wait for a mistake—a head too close to a window—and then it was all over.

They had to move carefully across the yard and into the house of horrors; bomb squad setting off minor explosions from mines buried in the lawn.  The door was bolted shut, and when opened the wrong way, triggered a firebomb that set part of the house ablaze, as if, even in death, Thomas David Miller was destroying evidence and attempting to murder the victims still locked in his basement.

Half the house collapsed, but the fire was extinguished and from the rubble they rescued two men and a woman who’d been missing for a month, a week, and half a year, respectively.  They were terrified, covered in strange markings and scars from repeated torture and sickening experimentation.  They told about many other victims who were murdered in front of them in horrifying ways, and even buried by their own hands in the soft mud of the pond’s banks.

Even more of a treasure trove was the endless records Thomas David Miller kept of his victims.  Teeth, piercings, photographs and videos; the detectives spent weeks sifting through all the evidence, trying to identify the people lost and stolen.  Most were runaways, or rejected by their families, hence why they were frequenting dive bars in the most rural of places.  The recordings were done on VHS, spanning many years, and photographs were Polaroids for instance gratification.

Only one set of videos, focusing on one victim, was recorded on DVD, and it was nearly lost in the rubble of what used to be the kitchen.  The detectives—state experts on missing persons cases—had seen this person before, but alive and already found safe, though unable to account for his whereabouts


	8. Recurrence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the very end.  
> so  
> who do you believe

They were almost done with the comeback tour, and far, far away from where Josh had been found, which turned out to be Thomas David Miller’s hunting grounds, when they received a call from the detectives charged with solving Josh’s abduction.  No one had heard anything from them since the hospital, because of the lack of leads and Josh’s unwillingness to help.  

They sounded almost gleeful about saying they caught the man who ‘ _ had done this to him’ _ and stated they needed Josh to fly out for debriefing.  Though all the loose ends in the cases were tying up nicely—suspect dead, evidence abound—they needed Josh to see if he’d finally provide information.  Josh tried to refuse, so the detectives came to them, right into their dressing rooms with file folder after file folder of photographs and diagrams.  

Tyler sat next to him on the dressing room couch, horrified at the mutilation in the photographs.  Tyler quickly found that he couldn’t look any longer, and instead watched Josh’s reaction.  Josh glanced through the photos, with his forehead creased in disgust.  Tyler expected a more visceral reaction from him, but Josh seemed simply grossed out.  

The longest pause was at the few pictures there were of Thomas David Miller.  Josh studied the photo and Tyler watched his eyes flick back and forth across the paper.  

“This him?”  Josh asked the detectives, holding up a photo from some sort of family event.  The man was captured in a brief moment—candid and unaware of the camera.  “This the guy that did this?”

One of the detectives nodded eagerly and leaned forward, licking his lips in anticipation of a big confession.

“Never seen him before in my life,” Josh said flatly and dropped the photo back into the folder.

A detective exhaled impatiently, “This is the man that kidnapped you.  We have evidence.”

“Dunno where you got that.  I wasn’t taken by him,” Josh’s voice stayed monotone, disinterested.  Tyler had no idea what to think.

“Maybe he wore a mask when…?” the second detective suggested, and Josh shook his head.

“Let’s watch the video and maybe that will jog your memory,” the partner said grimly.

The video was enough to convince Tyler.  There was no way anyone could deny that was Josh on that table, tied down and spaced out.  The detectives explained there were hours of this torture footage, where Josh hovered between drugged stupefaction and pure fear and pain.  The man in the video, clearly Thomas David Miller when he removed the grey ski mask in front of the camera, did unspeakable things to him.  Tyler couldn’t, and as much as he wanted to, reject this seemingly incontrovertible evidence.

Tyler vomited after being shown the footage, begging the detectives to stop playing the video of  _ that man _ doing _ things _ to Josh.  He cursed the sick side of himself that wanted to see it and know, that begged for proof that  _ this  _ was real and  _ not  _ the work of the paranormal or extraterrestrial.  It all came down the depravity of humanity, and not sinister experiments of beings from galaxies away.

But with that illusion gone, it only made everything worse.  As if believing in something more being out there lessened the abhorrent nature of this crime.  He couldn’t help but look at Josh in the context of a victim, of someone hurt and broken, rather than a survivor of the Unknown.  It put everything into a place he could understand; people get kidnapped by serial killers and torturers—that was reality.  Aliens didn’t exist, and Josh had been drugged for so long, he had no idea what really happened to him.

And yet Josh staunchly refused to believe even the most concrete of proof, saying the aliens had such unbelievable technology, that  _ of course _ they’d be able to manufacture this.  It was all a ploy to disprove Josh, and frame this monster.  

“He killed his victims, and yet I’m alive,” Josh pointed out a few days later, after they had time to process what they had seen.  They were in a hotel room, late at night after a show.  Josh had shaken Tyler out of sleep and then stood in front of the window staring up at the sky devoid of stars, “The videos of me look completely different than all his other tapes.  It’s all a set up!”

“Maybe he knew you were famous and decided to set you free when he got bored?”  Tyler suggested, moving to stand behind Josh.

“They’re just discrediting me.  No one is gonna believe me now—even you.  I can tell.  You saw my children!  How can you—how—please,” Josh turned and gripped Tyler’s shirt, “Listen to me!”

“I am.  I—I—Josh, you’re scaring me,” Tyler squeaked, and Josh released him, looking regretful.

“I’m sorry,” Josh mumbled, looking closer to tears than Tyler had seen him this whole time.  In fact, he couldn’t remember Josh crying at all, “I just feel so….worthless and weak.  Everyone looking at me.  I’m so—I’m so...dirty.”

“Can I touch you?” Tyler asked cautiously, only letting his hand reach Josh’s arm after a short nod, “It’s...hard to know how to react.  I don’t want to hurt you, but I also want you to feel, uh, better.  Maybe talking through is best for us all?”

“You saw them with your own eyes.  You of all people should have my back,” Josh muttered.

Tyler was at a loss for words.  He knew what he saw, but he also had just woken up, had stuck his head shortly after.  Memory wasn’t perfect...what he saw at the time may have all been a hallucination.  And when you came down to it, it was all scientifically impossible.

“I don’t really understand what I saw.  There were lights, but...but,” Tyler’s voice faltered and faded away, and he knew in that moment he screwed up.

Josh was looking at him as if Tyler’s dismissal ruined all semblance of recovery, and no amount of backpedaling Tyler did could fix that.  Josh slipped into a funk that continued to the end of tour.  He wouldn't let Tyler, or anyone else, come near him. Where they'd made progress in soft kisses and holding each other in bed, now Josh would dodge all human contact. Even during the bows on stage, Tyler could feel him stiffening and fighting back the urge to flee. So Tyler stopped placing his arm across Josh's shoulder, and Josh altogether stopped showing his face on stage.

He wore the alien mask the whole time during the last week of shows. Tyler read through what the fans thought, because of course they had theory upon theory of what every move they made meant. Some pointed out correctly that Josh needed the anonymity and safety the mask gave; it was in the news that Thomas David Miller had been the one to kidnap Josh. Some said Josh needed time to recover and everyone should let him be. Others made jokes about alien abduction and anal probing, and Tyler had to turn off his phone and deep breathe so he wouldn't break anything.

The mask was a form of silent protest, Tyler concluded. Josh was hiding and angry, though he passively displayed it. He stood firmly by what he said happened even though as time went on and less and less people close to him believed the alien story, Tyler included.

“It’s probably for the best,” Josh’s mom suggested when Tyler cracked and called her after a week of this, and just one day left on the tour, “If we kept going along with it, he’d never have to confront what actually happened.”

And Tyler guess that made sense.  Josh was physically better, so it was time for him to heal mentally.  He was just not used to Josh acting so cold towards him, and he knew it came from the drummer feeling hurt and rejected.  

He’d never seen Josh so simply miserable as he did before the last show.  He didn’t rush out of the room like he had been; just sitting on the couch, in full stage makeup, staring at his hands.

Tyler tried to find the right words, licking his lips over and over as the words failed him.  He applied the black paint dark tonight.  The darkest it had been in a long time.

“I’m sorry,” Josh sounded defeated.

“Me too,” Tyler felt the air slipping from his lungs and with that, the wall melted between them to be just the thinnest of glass.  They could see the other side but never cross over—they believed what they thought to be true and that wouldn’t change, however they wouldn’t hurt the other for it.

In the moments before they went on stage, Josh wrapped his arm around Tyler from behind, and pressed his lips to Tyler’s neck.  The stagehands and crew looked pointedly away, giving them their moment of privacy.  They couldn’t stay mad at each other for long, the magnetic pull between them too much.  Josh took his hand and squeezed, letting his fingers slide dry across the palm as he walked off to his entrance.  

Tyler may have imagined the traces of black paint upon Josh’s lips once the alien mask was pulled off after a few songs.  The shadow was still there when Josh pulled him close for the bow, and for the first time in awhile, he felt that they were finally safe.  

They stayed touching even walking off stage and Tyler wanted to get Josh alone to hold him until the sun rose again.  He didn’t know what was going on inside Josh’s head.  Was he giving up and moving on? From what?  Tyler wanted to ground him into the moment, into today and what was real and now.

But Josh slipped from his arm and vanished.

Tyler didn’t notice he was gone, distracted by the people who always seem to get in the way when something terrible was happening.  He waited at the venue for Josh, showered and cleaned, all traces of the black paint gone.  No sign of his friend, Tyler figured he was back on the bus, but still Josh was nowhere to be found.

He gave him until two in the morning to return and spent the time waiting on the verge of a panic attack.  Everyone else wanted to call the police right away, but Tyler insisted, Tyler hoped, that this was just Josh needing air and going for a walk.  That he’d return and everyone would be annoyed but relieved, and they would all go to sleep safe and sound.

At 2:01 am, Mark made the 911 call and the search began. Tyler could barely muster the energy to be invested in this.  He kept having to go through this again and again—and every time his mind jumped to the worst possibilities.  Within minutes he concluded that this time they were going to find Josh dead—whether by his own hand or someone else’s.  Was the moment of forgiveness of ‘everything is going to be okay’ for nothing?

There was no sign of Josh in any hospital, subway, or airport.  Security cameras were poured over but it was as if, once again, he vanished into thin air.  And Tyler was angry.  Angrier than he ever had been before, even during that first disappearance.  He was mad at Josh for doing this again, convinced it was on purpose.  Tyler gave up, gave into the possibility that this was it.  Josh would never return.  He’d been hurt so much he didn’t care.

Except he did.  He cared so much his body ached with pent up screams and sobs.  He wanted to tear everything down and burn the world because Josh was probably hurt or dead somewhere and he couldn’t stop it.  He never was able to stop it.

Tyler could tell they were keeping an eye on him, knowing the drastic thoughts racing through his head.  No one left him alone.  He prayed for answers, not wanting to live with the unknown.

He wanted Josh back.

He wanted to make things right.  Wanted to go back before any of this happen.  To have told Josh how he loved him back every moment of every day and stopped him from stepping off that bus to begin with.

* * *

 

Josh reappeared after two days, asleep in a park all the way back in Columbus.  Bruises littered his wrists and ankles, like he’d been tied down.  He was taken to a hospital and released later that same day to his relieved family.  He had no further injuries and was otherwise unharmed.  He refused to tell anyone where he went.

Tyler took the first flight home, completely unsure how he was going to react when he finally saw Josh.  He was an angry ball of regret and nerves.  Too much had been put on the line; too many emotions into his relationship with Josh and he’d only been hurt.  Tyler wanted to shout at Josh for putting him through this technically three times.  Wanted him to be scared enough to never do it again, but Tyler knew Josh wasn’t doing this on purpose.  That Josh wasn’t the type to selfishly hurt those who care about him, that he was kind and giving to a fault, and he was the victim in this after all. 

So once again, since Tyler is never someone to learn his lesson with protecting himself from people he loved, even if they don’t intend to harm, Tyler found himself running into Josh’s open, scarred, and bruised arms.  And he wondered how many times would they be doing this.  Would Josh continue to disappear and reappear unpredictably, blown to and fro by a celestial wind?  Would they ever agree on the cause?

“So…” Tyler started, once they were alone, in his own house for a change.  They were in bed together, where they always ended up when they were apart for too long, “What happened this time?”

Josh pointedly stared at the ceiling, for once his shirt was off and Tyler had explored every mark and crevice on the planes of his torso, “You don’t wanna hear it, trust me.”

“Yes, I do,” Tyler insisted, scooting closer to him, “I just want you to explain.”

Josh sighed and rolled over to face him, “Fine. Okay.  So it was the same aliens as before.  They took me, but I was ready.  I kinda figured they would come back again, and so I demanded to see my kids and I’d do anything they wanted.”

“Which was?”

“Who even knows, what matters is they let me see them.  And I set them free,” Josh’s face glowed with a light beyond what either the bedside lamp or moon could provide.

“How’d you do that?”  Tyler traced the designs on the duvet idly, making careful note how  _ happy _ Josh was in that moment.

“Just kinda tackled them.  They forgot I’ve had months to get strong again.  Soon as my arms were free I knocked a couple of them out and the kids just ran for it.  I think they stole an escape pod or something, they’re resourceful like that.”

“Okay,” Tyler nodded, fighting the doubt in his voice and trying to search for the right questions to keep up this joyful, finally at peace, look in Josh’s eyes.  “Will you see them again? Are they coming to stay with you?”

Josh was wistful, hopeful and sad, for just a moment, but then reality clouded his expression, “I wish, but the aliens are always tracking me.  It’d be too obvious to stay here.  So they’re just....gone.  But I’m sure they’ll send messages to me soon.”

“Cool.  And, uh, the aliens sent you back after that?”

“Nah, they, uh, did their thing,” and Josh made jabbing motions with his fingers, “A promise is a promise, I guess, and I’m just lucky they didn’t kill me or hurt me really bad for what I did.”

“So...experiments?”  Tyler asked tentatively.

“Pretty much,” Josh shrugged, “I think that’s why they leave the memories with me.  So they can keep coming back and reusing me, like, my story is their guarantee that no one will believe me.  I’m just so relieved the kids are gone and safe.  I don’t care what they do to me.”

“I care,” Tyler protested, and Josh finally pulled him close till they were touching from face to feet.

“Thank you,” Josh whispered into Tyler’s cheek, “Thank you for putting up with this craziness.  I know you will never believe me, but at least you….you listen.”

“It’s ‘cuz I love you,” Tyler confessed and Josh smiled, finally accepting, finally ready.

And they fell asleep, in a state of agree-to-disagree.  This would be their normal, and it would be alright.  Josh would be taken again, they were both sure of it, but he’d always come back.  They were going to be just fine, even as Josh slipped out of bed first thing in the morning.  Sunlight was just beginning to ease the black from the sky into oranges and pinks, as nausea made him sprint to the toilet.

This continued unbeknownst to Tyler, and at the third morning in a row he’d woken like this, he finally accepted what was going on.   Josh didn’t allow himself a grace period of denial, instead poked at his stomach, trying to feel what their tools and machines had done to him.  They set him on Earth like this, and he wanted to know  _ why _ .  What were they planning?

Josh brushed his teeth, and willed himself to not freak out.  By his estimates, he had only a few weeks before it’d be obvious.  Before he had to hide himself and pray he didn’t have to  _ deal with this _ on his own.  He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose as he fought his scared, racing heart.

_ Stay calm.  Stay low. _

“Josh?” Tyler called from the bedroom, scared to wake up alone and it all to be a dream that turned into the nightmares of being chased on that spaceship.  

“I’m here,” Josh replied, and opened his eyes,purposefully   _ forgetting _ what he knew to be happening to him, at least for the time being.  They’d be coming back for him soon.

He climbed into bed and let Tyler latch onto him, “I’m right here.”

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to everyone that helped me write this by being a patient ear to bounce ideas off of, an endless source of encouragement, and my own cheerleaders.
> 
> teeentyonepilots on tumblr


End file.
